


Not All Tattoos Are Permanent

by viscaneymessi



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Bakery, M/M, Tattoos, baker neymar, be ready, tattoo artist messi, theres gonna be angst, theres gonna be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-08-23 09:24:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8322562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscaneymessi/pseuds/viscaneymessi
Summary: Leo is an incredible tattoo artist and Neymar works in a small, family run bakery.  They meet and immediately hit it off.





	1. The Boy in the Bakery

**Author's Note:**

> AYYE!
> 
> SO IM BACK WITH NEYMESSI WOOOOO!! It's honestly been way too long. Irdk how many chapters this is gonna be and I have some ideas for parts after these but bear with me, college apps are comin along so I may not post that much but I will try!!
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really helps! enjoy xx  
> p.s follow my tumblr blog: monetmarjr (if you want to).  
> -Kiarra <3

 

Ps. [Follow me on tumblr](monetmarjr.tumblr.com) (if you want to)

 

* * *

Leo's POV

 

“Aand… I’m done.  Take a look in the mirror, and tell me what you think,” he said as he pushed his rolling chair away from tattoo table giving his client some space to get up.  

She held her shirt up and cautiously made her way to the mirror, anticipation building.  Tattooed down her side, in black ink was four large roses.  Her skin was burning red, but the six hours lying down and taking the pain was worth it.  

“It’s beautiful,” the young lady said as she began to tear up, “more than I ever imagined.”  

“Beautiful tattoo, for an equally as beautiful girl.  You’re welcome.”

The girl blushed, then the man gave her a pamphlet on how to properly care for her new ink and she left, heels clicking out of his parlor and into the darkening street.  The man began cleaning up, putting his ink away and tidying up before beginning to lock up shop.  

“Hey Lio.  Was that your last client for today?” a soft voice called from the hallway.  

“Yeah, I’m just cleaning up, you can go now Anto, thanks for staying overtime.”  

A thin brunette girl entered the room, leaning on the door frame as she watched him clean.  

Eventually, she interrupted the thickening silence, “So, got any plans tonight?  There’s this new place down tow-”

“Ah, I’m sorry Anto, I’m just so tired.  I had two six hour clients today I just really want to sleep.  Maybe next time,” the boy said scratching the back of his neck as he kneeled on the ground organizing his needles and ink into bins.  

“Yeah,” she muttered disappointedly, as she left she mumbled, “that’s what you always say.”  

Antonella began to lock up downstairs, quickly sweeping then grabbing her purse and keys to leave, “See you tomorrow Lio,” she yelled behind her, not waiting for a response.  

Lionel finished upstairs then made a final check on all of the locks, turning the lights off behind him.  The cold air hit him as he walked onto the street.  The lights were beginning to turn on and the last of the sunlight was beginning to fade away.  He walked his usual route back home, dim streetlights casting ominous shadows every turn.  

Leo nodded at some of the people he knew as passed them on the sidewalk.  His house wasn’t too far away from his shop, just a couple blocks away so it wasn’t a hassle to walk back every day for work.  

He once thought it would be a good investment to buy and learn how to ride a skateboard, but it wasn’t as easy as it looked and found himself in the hospital with a sprained wrist and a huge scratch on his knee, and his ego.  The nurse laughed when he said he was trying to learn how to ride a skateboard so he pouted for the rest of the checkup.  

He searched for his keys in his pocket and unlocked the door to his flat.  It was a nice space, he made good money tattooing and people traveled from different parts of the world just to get inked by him.  They placed him on a pedestal because he did everything freehand, no outlines, no references, just him and his own imagination.  

He had an artistic gift, he was self-taught and only followed the beat of his own drum.  Leo didn’t have many friends, they were mostly those who he knew when he was growing up, but he never seemed to be lonely, usually busying himself with drawing new sketches or traveling.  He loved the traveling and was invited to every tattoo convention, people from around the globe begging him to do their tattoos.  

In all honesty, he didn’t think he was that good at his art, finding every flaw with a work until it drove him mad, but the compliments were always nice.  

He took a hot shower, changed into sweatpants, made himself a cup of tea and then sat down at his art desk.  Fingers itching to pick up various pencils and paints, he began his brain storming.  

Splashes of color and the thick, confident lines he was known for began to take shape.  Usually, he didn’t know what in the world he was drawing, but eventually the lines would connect and the piece would fit together like a puzzle.  He drew his last line and lifted the paper to scrutinize his work.  It was a two headed sparrow, one representing the good and pureness which held an olive branch in its beak, the other, representing war, showcasing an arrow dipped in blood.  

They were drawn almost effortlessly, but as soon as Leo saw that some of the colors smeared a small part of the wing he immediately crumpled the paper and threw it into his now overflowing trashcan of failed pieces.  

Sighing, he admitted it was time to sleep as tomorrow was only a half day and he had the first afternoon off in a long time.  He fell asleep to the soft hum of his tv playing and cars passing by on the street below.  

 

...

 

Morning light streamed in his window and the scent of freshly baked bread danced through his window, forcing him to rub the sleep out of his tired eyes.  Leo sat up, eyes still foggy as he stretched, back cracking with a satisfying pop.  He swung his legs off his bed, feet touching the cold floors as he began his morning routine.  After he finished, taking one last look in the mirror he walked out the door, client papers and his phone in hand.  The town was much prettier in the daytime, flowers lining all the quaint storefronts of antique shops and boutiques.  

But there was one store in familiar he loved more than the rest, a small bakery that he passed by every morning.  That was his favorite part of every day: getting to smell the fantastic creations of that family.  He never went in, though, as he was almost intimidated by one of the boys working there.  

He had nice tanned skin, light eyes, and a smile that never seemed to leave his face.  

From what Leo could predict, he seemed like a nice boy, but he never had time to fully meet him, “we probably wouldn’t get along anyway”, he thought, “but what if we did?” another part of him tried to rationalize.  Leo shook it off and pushed on past the bakery and to his shop.  

As he walked in, Antonella greeted him, handing him a tall cup of coffee.  

He breathed in the nutty scent and smiled at her as she rolled her eyes, “Skipped breakfast again this morning huh?”  

“Ah Anto, you know me too well.  Thank you, love.”  

She scoffed at him and continued, “Your first client is already upstairs and the next should be around in two hours.  I’ll call you when he arrives.”  

They nodded to each other and Leo continued upstairs, starting his day of work.  The clients loved their new pieces, as usual, which Leo thought was the most rewarding part of his job (besides the great paycheck).  Seeing people love and appreciate his art, in a way he could never was truly special to him, and made him want to keep producing newer art that could be enjoyed by everyone.  It was incredible to him that strangers would trust him and his artistic vision enough to have him etch his voice, his passion, onto their skin permanently.  

There were times when he hated it too though, when they whined and nagged at him the entire time, even knowing how he never traces or avoids reference pictures when possible, or when they refused to sit still, making him nervous of making a bad line, but other than that he loved his job.  He began to clean up his station for the day, putting ink bottles away and cleaning his needles, when he heard Antonella walk up the stairs.  

“Those pieces were incredible Lio, just great, you’re really improving on flowers,” Leo nodded at her, wanting to just leave for his afternoon off, “I miss my best friend,” she stated simply, looking down at her shoes.  Leo dropped his shoulders, and sighed, trying to find words to say.  

“I-you,” he began.  

“No, it’s okay.  I know you’re busy.  I’m going to go take my lunch break and I’ll show the afternoon appointments to Raf,” and she walked down the stairs without another word.  Leo massaged the bridge of his nose out of frustration, but continued to pack up and leave, nodding to the other receptionist at the front of the store.

On the way back home, he couldn’t help but be entranced to the small bakery he passed every day.  He walked inside, without another thought, a small bell on the door dinging as he entered.  

A husky voice from the back called, “I’ll be out in just a minute.”  He wanted to leave, he knew that voice belonged to the cute boy he always saw decorating cakes and he was nowhere near ready to actually meet him, to hold a conversation with him.  

Leo was turning to leave just as the boy rounded the corner with a bright smile on his face, some flour smeared on his face, some even in the tips of his hair.  He seemed to stop dead in his tracks when he saw Leo, half turned to walk out.  His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but immediately closed.  

“Uh… hi there,” Leo managed to croak out.  

“I- you, you’re the tattoo artist from down the street right?” Leo nodded, “I mean.  Hi, welcome to Da Silva Bakery.  I-is there anything I can help you with,” he babbled as he was embarrassed of his rudeness.  Leo chuckled as he walked up to the counter, looking at the menu written on the walls behind the boy.  

“It’s my first time here,” Leo said thoughtfully.  

“I know,” the boy mumbled to himself.  

“What was that?” Leo asked, unsure of what the baker boy said to him.  

Apparently it was something embarrassing as he quickly answered, “Oh nothing,” bowing his head to hide a small blush.

“What’s good here?”

“I mean, everything is good to someone.  It depends what you like.”

“Fair enough.  I’ll take one of whatever your favorite is and a hot chocolate.”  The boy nodded and scurried to the back room, to prepare his food.

“Ney?” a voice called from somewhere in the back of the store.  

“What?” the boy from the front called back.  

“Is that, the tattoo guy from the end of the block?”

 He heard someone shush the girl, but she squealed with whatever he said to her and ran up to the front, “Don’t be embarrassing,” he heard the boy call after her, but she rolled her eyes and flicked her hair off her shoulder.  

Leo saw a girl that had a striking resemblance to the first guy make eye-contact with him, a large grin spreading on her face.  

She walked from behind the counter and extended her hand to him, “I’m Rafaella.  And that idiot back there is my brother, Ney.  It’s a pleasure to meet you, I am a big fan of your work.”  

Leo grinned to himself, shifting under her gaze as he shook her hand, “Pleasure to meet you Rafaella, I’m Lionel.”  

She giggled a little, “I know your name, silly.  I’ve been following your work since you started a couple years back,” she stated proudly.  They continued to talk about tattoos and ones that she wanted to get as Ney finished making his order.  

Twenty minutes passed before Ney emerged from the back room with a large plate with a big pyramid of something on it, and a large mug filled with hot coco.  

“Sorry this took so long, this item isn’t on the menu, but you asked for my favorite, so I thought I-”

Leo interrupted him, “It’s more than okay, I loved talking with your sister, and it looks delicious, anyway.”  

Ney set the order in front of him saying, “I hope she wasn’t too embarrassing or invasive.  She tends to intrude in-”  Ney couldn’t finish his sentence because Rafaella had punched him straight in the arm.  

“It was really nice to meet you Leo,” she leaned in closer to whisper, “sorry my brother is such a grump.”  

They both laughed as Ney pouted and crossed his arms.  Leo thought he looked cute and loved how flustered he got when Rafaella passed by and messed with his hair as she continued back into the kitchen.  

Ney then sat down with Leo at his table, staring at the pastry with such intent Leo thought he might bust out of his seat at any moment.  He proceeded to cut a piece of it off and lift the fork to his mouth.  An orchestra of tastes filled his mouth as the pastry melted onto his tongue.  

Chocolate and cinnamon and vanilla, with hints of other spices ignited every taste bud and he savored every bite.  

He didn’t even realize his eyes were closed but when he opened them, he saw a beautiful man sitting straight in front of him.  It was the first time he got to see him up close.  He had pretty green eyes, soft looking hair and a mouth that enticed leo to lean in and kiss him right there, but he restrained himself instead offering Ney a wide smile.  

“So… Do you like it?” he asked intently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA cliff hanger. Sorry not sorry ;)


	2. A Work of Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyo  
> Oh wow kiarra good job updating lmao. So it's been 3 months. I'm sorry I've just been writing college essays non stop but hopefully I will get back into writing. I'm on break and may have time for one more update (maybe maybe) but yeah. I hope you like this chapter, I made it kind of long bc of the big ass delay (im sorry ily all).
> 
>  
> 
> As always, please be sure to comment any questions or just if you like the story! The support really helps! enjoy.  
> -Kiarra <3

Ps. [Follow me on tumblr](monetmarjr.tumblr.com) (if you want to)

 

* * *

Neymar's POV

 

“Time to get up,” a voice sang loudly in his ear causing him to stir from his sleep.  

He shifted under the warm covers, begging the sleep to not slip away as he pulled the covers to cover his face.  The man felt a body flop onto his own, causing him to groan.  

“I wish I was an only child,” he snickered, “Pai should have stopped while he was ahead.”  

He heard a yell of protest and the body on top of him began to jab his sides and he squealed (he didn’t like to admit it but he was disastrously ticklish and his sister took every opportunity to remind him).  

“Shut up, you know pai loves me more,” the girl yelled at him through muffled giggles, “but you better get your butt up before I eat all the Pão de queijo.”  

His sister finally rolled off of him after a whole minute of begging and he heard her skip across the floor and down the stairs to their parents.  With a sigh of relief that he was finally alone, he rubbed his eyes of sleep and tossed to his back.  

He stared up at the ceiling, counting the tiny glow-in-the-dark stars that he put up their when they moved there when he was still just a child, never having the heart to take them down.  

“Neymar Da Silva Santos Jr. don’t make me come back up there,” he heard his sister yell threateningly from downstairs.  He groaned, running a hand through his hair and - much to his distaste - got up from his cocoon of warm covers.  

“I’m up, I’m up.  Go be a nuisance to Pai instead,” he yelled out the door and only received a roar of laughter and bickering that he couldn’t quite make out in return.

 

It was a cold dawn in mid November, and as he walked out the door his mai was tugging his arm, trying to wrap a scarf around his neck.  Though he initially protested at her babying him, he was thankful for the thing as soon as a gust of wind whirled by.  He watched as deep red and orange leaves danced in the streets, the trees swaying as their backup dancers.  It was nothing like this back home in Brazil, he thought, and he didn’t know if he was to appreciate the fact.  

They moved when he was only 5, bright-eyed and curious to the new environment he was moving to, as his father had to leave their house because of work.  He liked Barcelona though.  Loved the architecture, the food, the people, just everything.  It was so different to São Paulo, refreshing almost.  Church bells rang in the distance and he stopped reminiscing of his home, continuing to walk down the stone sidewalk.  

Five.  

There was five chimes that he counted, walking in step with each ding.  

He had to get to the bakery this early as he would start mixing ingredients for the breads and pastries for the day, then his mother and sister would come in some time later to help with the baking and decorating.  Neymar loved opening the shop, this was his experimenting time, a time just to himself.  He’d usually turn on some new Portuguese pop music, moving his hips to the beat and crack eggs into a bowl, creating something new.  

Flour was thrown like magic dust on the counter before he moved the dough onto it, kneading it expertly but mindlessly, as he became lost in thought.  He was thinking about the encounter he had the day before, with the tattoo boy from down the street.  The man was much more humble than he expected, with all that fame and fortune, he thought it would have gotten to his head.  Neymar was never happier to admit he was wrong, the man was a personification of warmth, his passion radiated from him like a fire.  Lionel even liked the pastry that he made just for him.  

“Similar taste hm,” Ney thought to himself.  

 

The dough began sticking to his hands so he dusted it with more flour and began to daydream again.  

 

He remembered smiled widely and asking, “So… Do you like it?”  

Lionel’s eyes flicked up to his own, starting with such an intensity, he was almost intimidated for a second, before he saw them scrunch up into a smile.  

“Like it?  I believe it’s the best pastry I have ever tasted.”  

Neymar couldn’t help but blush at the compliment as he heard his sister squeal behind the counter.  After shooing her away, his gaze returned to Lionel sitting in front of him as the man nearly swallowed the plate his dessert was once before.  

Neymar couldn’t help but chuckle, and before he could catch himself he stated, “you should come by again to taste the others.”  As he realized what he just offered, he panicked, “I- I mean, only if you want to.  If you don’t I completely understand.  You must be so busy, with the- the-.”  

To his surprise, he laughed, not just a chuckle, he was belting out a hearty laugh, one where he had to clutch his stomach.  Neymar offered a meek smile as his eyebrows raised in confusion.  

“Of course I will be back,” Lionel breathed, after he calmed down, taking another sip of his hot coco.  

“I mean, Rafaella and I have already become nearly best friends, so I’ll have to stop by soon.”  Heat rose to Neymar’s cheeks as he knew he would have to yell at Rafa later about always trying to steal his men.  That is, until he heard Lionel continue, “and of course, for your brilliant food.”  

His eyes snapped up to see the man taking a sip from his large cup, eyes admiring the chocolatey drink, then looking up, through his eyelashes at Neymar, in an innocent yet devious manner.  

 

Back in reality, Neymar realized that he had finished kneading the bread.  He brushed off how long he must’ve been in La La Land, and cut them into sections, popping them into pans then pushing them into a warming oven.  Neymar then moved onto some of the smaller pastries, mixing different flavors of cupcakes and cookies, setting their batters aside for when his sister came.  

The front door then opened, bell ringing, Ney looked at the clock and saw it was too early for Rafaella to be in just yet, and cursed himself for not locking the front door.  

“Rafa?” there was no answer.  

He dusted his hands on his apron then walked to behind the counter.  There was someone with their back towards him, seemingly on the phone.  They were wearing a coat, two sizes too big and had a thick grey scarf on.  

“Uh- excuse me, we’re not open yet, sorry!” he called out.  The man turned around, putting his phone down.  

It was Lionel.  His cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and his hair was roughed up from the wind outside.  Neymar saw him hang his phone up, seemingly not caring about whoever was on the other end, sighing.  

“Oh, I- I’m sorry,” he stuttered with a hand on his neck, “I thought I would stop by before work.  I can go if you’re not open.”  

He spun on his heel and began to push the door open.  

“NO!” Neymar practically yelled, scaring both of them.  “I mean.  You can stay,” he then said almost shyly, “if you want to.  I’m just preparing stuff in the back.”  Lionel nodded, with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes.  Neymar backed up slowly and motioned for him to follow, “Do you want another hot chocolate?  Or anything for that matter?”  

He heard the man shuffle into the back area as he went back to pouring vanilla into his specialty cupcake batter.

“A hot chocolate would be lovely, but only if you’re not busy, I don’t mean to be a bother.”  

Neymar chuckled, “You could never be a bother.”  

He scooped the batter into the cupcake tins, feeling Lionel’s eyes watching his every move, then made his drink, cautioning him that it would be hot.  As Ney began to roll out the sugar cookie batter, he grew curious, “You have work this early Lionel?”  

“Call me Leo,” he breathed, steam swirling up from his cup, “Well, not this early, but I figured I would grab breakfast here, since I usually never have time when I’m at home.”  

Neymar thought about why Leo would have time for breakfast now, if he didn’t even have time for it in the first place, but he decided not to question it.  

“So, since you're in need of some breakfast, I almost have a fresh pan of bagels coming out from the oven, if you would like one.  I think we have some cream cheese in the refrigerator somewhere.”  

Leo sat his cup down on the counter he was leaning against, “That sounds wonderful actually.”  

A few minutes full of small talk later, a timer dinged and Leo perked up, stomach grumbling.  Neymar removed the bagel pan with cute flowery-printed mittens, stirring a giggle from the man beside him.  

“They’re my sister’s,” he tried to save.  Leo hummed an mmhm, sure before walking over to admire the steaming bread.  

“So… this is the brilliance I smell every morning on my way to work.”  

Neymar ducked his head, “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.  But if it isn’t any good, blame it on my sister, it’s her recipe after all.”  

He went to fetch the cream cheese and an assortment of homemade jams for Leo to try.  When he returned, Leo was texting someone on his phone again, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  

“Everything okay?” he asked, setting the colorful glasses down.  

“Oh, yeah,” Lionel muttered, locking his phone and shoving it into his pocket, then smiling up at Neymar as if nothing happened.  

“Looks delicious.”  

 

Neymar and Leo sat out in the dining area, half-empty cups of hot coco splashing up the sides as they laughed together.  There was crumbs of bagel on the side of Leo’s cheek, and it was so utterly distracting to Neymar, he kept glancing there when the other talked to him.  

Eventually Leo caught on, self consciously dusting his chin off, “I have something on my face don’t I?”  

He began to wipe his face, ever so slightly missing a bit of the crumbs.  “Almost got it?”  

Neymar shook his head and reached over the table to wipe the remnants of the bagel off.  As he finished, he realized their proximity.  He could hear Lionel breathe out, and his gaze averted to Leo's eyes, slightly surprised but tempting at the same time.  

His mouth was slightly open, lips plump and red from trying to lick blueberry jam off of them moments earlier.  Neymar wished he could have stayed in that position forever: so close that he could count every eyelash on his pretty face and notice every gold fleck in Leo’s dark brown eyes.  

He found himself leaning forward, ever so slowly, he breathed in a scent of chocolate and sugar, and was now close enough to feel the heat emanating from the man.  It may have been his imagination, but he felt Leo leaning forward as well.  

Their lips were now inches apart, Neymar saw Leo’s eyes flutter to a close as his did the same.  However, their lips never found each other, as the front door opened with a start, the bells shocking them back into their personal spaces once again.  

“Hope I wasn’t interrupting something,” a cheery voice cooed.  

“Rafa,” Neymar huffed, looking down at his hands, feeling heat creep up to his cheeks.  

“Good morning Rafaella, no you weren’t interrupting a thing,” he said, standing up to give her a hug.  

They embraced tightly and then she dragged him to the back room, presumably to gossip - Neymar could only imagine.  He hated how close they had gotten over such a short amount of time, their personalities being so compatible for each other.  Rafaella said they texted all night since they exchanged phone numbers in the bakery.  

Neymar didn’t even have Leo’s phone number, and yet, his stupid sister was able to use her charm - or whatever she wanted to call it - on him.  He wasn’t jealous, no, of course he wasn’t, he just didn’t want her to scare him off.  Convincing himself of this didn’t really work out as he heard them laughing off in the kitchen.  

He picked up the plates and cups, walking into the back to clean them.  When he walked into the back, he saw Leo, piping bag in hand attempting to frost a cake.

“This is much harder than just drawing,” he chuckled.  

“You say that, but I’m looking at a cake that looks like Picasso did it.”  Ney heard Leo scoff, as he continued to put the dishes into the sink and wash them.  

“Neymar, don’t you think that Leo did a good job on this cake?” and in a more hushed tone to Leo, “he couldn’t have done that.  I think he’s jealous.”  

“I’m _not_ jealous.  And I _can_ hear you Rafaella.”  

“You were supposed to, babe,” she snickered, elbowing Leo playfully.  

“Oh, I’m sure this isn’t any good.  If you want to see any of my actual pieces, you should stop by my shop sometime.  I can give you a tour or something.”  

Rafaella basically screamed babbling on and on about how she can’t believe _The Lionel Messi_ is offering to give her a tour of his shop, about how excited she is to see his works, showering the poor man with compliments.  Neymar looked to him with sympathy written on his face, though he could see Leo smirking at him.  Odd.  

 

After insisting that he had to go for the fifth time, Rafa finally let go of his arm saying they needed to meet again soon.  

Rafa then burst out, “Oh Ney, you should walk Leo to his work.  I got everything under control here!”  

Neymar tensed where he was, measuring baking soda, nearly dropping the container, and looked up, horrified.  

“Ah, no it’s okay, I don’t want to be a bother.”  

“Trust me Li, it’s no bother, he wasn’t doing anything anyway.”  

Neymar gawked at her new nickname for Leo, then motioned towards the bowl full of dry ingredients for a sponge cake.  

Rafa scoffed, “Don’t be rude.”  She then looked to Leo, again stating, “He’ll walk you.”  

Ney set his teaspoon down, and removed his apron.  

“Thank me later,” she whispered into his ear as she went to hug her new best friend goodbye.  

 

The walk to Leo’s work was relatively quiet, the rustling trees keeping them company along the way.  They talked about boring things like the weather, but nothing stuck it all seemed… awkward, to say the least.  Finally, they arrived to what Ney presumed to be Leo’s work.  The duo walked in and were greeted by a beautiful brunette.

“Antonella, this is Neymar.  He works at that little bakery down the street.  Neymar, Antonella - she works with me.”  

The brunette extended a hand towards him as she smiled gently, “Pleasure to meet you Neymar.”  

He grinned at her, as he found her smile infectious.  

“Leo, I thought you reschedule your morning appointments to 3 tonight,” Antonella asked.

Neymar felt Leo tense beside him, and raised his eyebrows questioningly.  

“I figured I’d come in early to show Ney around a bit.  Show him some of my works.”  

He couldn’t even look up from his shoes, and it may have been the sugar talking, but Neymar thought he saw a blush appear on Leo’s cheeks.  

Neymar thought about how early Leo walked into his shop, claiming it to be breakfast before work.  About how he was on the phone multiple times as if trying to sort something out.  Had he changed his appointments all around because of him?  No, that was foolish of Neymar to even think.  He was probably just tired or something.  

“I was just too worn out from the appointments last night.  I thought I texted you that?”  His theory was confirmed with Leo’s almost hostile sounding tone.  

Antonella simply nodded and offered a smile to Neymar one last time before walking into some side room.  

“Anyway,” Leo said, clapping his hands together.  “Let’s go up to my office, you wanted a tour, no?”  

Neymar smiled, nodding, thinking it better than to correct him that it was his sister who wanted the tour, not him.  But as they climbed the stairs, he rethought wanting that tour.  Art was everywhere, anything from simple pencil sketches to professional-like paintings, even the wall was spray painted with patterns.  

“You did all of these?” he asked, in awe.  

“Yes, except the walls Antonella helped with, she is really very talented.  Her works are on display downstairs.”  

Neymar stared at the works, running his fingertips over the frames.  

“They're all beautiful,” he whispered, more to himself than to Leo.  They reached the top of the stairs and sat down in some chairs near the wall.  

“So, I’m sure you get this question a lot but, why do you do everything freehand Leo?  Not that it’s not incredible the way it is, just curious, why’d you start that?”  

“Well, I always thought that, with art, even in life, that it’s not always best to have a set plan.  That sometimes you have to just start, draw that first line, and let the universe, or whoever, do the rest.  Those outlines some artists do are just boundaries they set on themselves.  I don’t like to be restricted to a set design, I guess, I just do what feels right, and let the rest work itself out.  ”  

“What if it doesn’t work out?”  

“Then my work isn’t done.  Now is it?”  Leo looked up from his shoes.  

All Neymar could see was passion.  

He admired this man’s determination, how he believed so much in his work.  Neymar now understood why people traveled around the world for this man.  His art, his philosophy, every element making his craft all the more desirable.  

Neymar looked to the art on the wall and found Leo.  

The lines were his story, weaving together to form a complete image; the colors were his emotions, mingling and mixing into the perfect shade of Leo; the pictures, all adding together to tell his own story.  

Neymar thought of how lucky he would be to even be just a speck on the masterpiece that is Lionel Messi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leo is a poetic piece of shit and so am I. No shame :-)


End file.
